


The One Where Everybody Finds Out

by starkidpatronus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkidpatronus/pseuds/starkidpatronus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Seamus are dating. Nobody knows. Until, they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Everybody Finds Out

**Author's Note:**

> You probably can tell that this fic is largely inspired by the "FRIENDS" episode, "The One Where Everybody Finds Out."  
> A huge thanks goes out to my lovely beta, Rain AKA itsallaboutflowermetaphors (http://itsallaboutflowermetaphors.tumblr.com/), who was so helpful in everything from grammar to plot points to dialogue. You have my unending gratitude. <3

Harry has a lot going on right now; a new relationship with the girl he’s been dreaming about for months, Draco Malfoy seemingly carrying out orders from Death Eaters, Voldemort gaining more power daily. Sometimes, he needs to take a break.

That’s why he’s wandering the castle after-hours tonight, hidden by his cloak and consulting the Marauders’ Map periodically. He needs some time to himself for drifting and thinking.

He’s just rounding the corner of another corridor, the one with the Room of Requirement hidden behind its tapestry, when he notices something strange on the map: Dean and Seamus are now walking the halls.

Harry conceals himself behind a witch statue and watches in curiosity as Dean and Seamus seem to take a definite path, as if they know exactly where they’re going. Then, abruptly, they stop. And then… _oh_.

Seamus is apparently standing with his back against a wall, and Dean is _right_ in front of him, and Harry doesn’t need to think very hard as to what would necessitate them standing together like that for—Good _Lord_ , twenty minutes?

Harry rolls up the map resolutely, deciding to take his chances as he makes his way back to the dorms. He has no interest in seeing how much longer Dean and Seamus stay like that.

Upon returning to his bed, he puts away the cloak and map before settling under the covers. He weighs his options: He could pretend he didn’t see anything, saving all of them a lot of awkwardness and embarrassment. Clearly, that’s the most logical decision. And yet…

Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little betrayed. Simply because—Well, they’d all been mates for six bloody years; it would be _nice_ if those two could do the rest of them the common courtesy of informing them of their new relationship! Honestly, what was _with_ those two? What, did they think the others wouldn’t be happy for them or something?

And another thought occurs to him—Are they gay? No, like—Is _Dean_ gay? As in— _only_ into guys? Was he just _using_ Ginny? God, Harry doesn’t even want to _start_ picking apart his emotions on _that_ front.

So, it’s settled. Harry’s going to make the illogical decision. (Really, what else is new?)

***

The next morning, Harry comes down to the Great Hall to see Dean and Seamus sitting side-by-side at Gryffindor Table. Upon coming up behind them, he notices that their legs are pressed together fully, and that Dean’s hand is resting on Seamus’s knee. (All right, maybe Harry should have realized all this was happening a lot sooner.)

He places one hand on Dean’s right shoulder and one on Seamus’s left, leaning down and muttering into the space between their heads, “Can I talk to you guys for a sec?”

“Sure, Harry,” Dean says easily, removing his hand from Seamus’s knee before wiping both hands on his napkin and rising. Seamus finishes off his pumpkin juice and follows suit. Harry leads them all out of the Great Hall and into the entryway.

“So,” Harry says, turning around on the spot to face his friends. “When were the two of you planning on telling all of us?”

Dean and Seamus look at each other in confusion and worry. “Tell you what, mate?” Seamus asks carefully.

Harry sighs. So, they have to do this the hard way. “I _saw_ you guys last night. In the corridor.”

“You were out after hours?” Seamus grins wickedly. “Not very good behavior from The Boy Who Lived.”

“Speak for yourself,” Harry throws back. “Fooling around in the castle corridors after hours? Not very becoming of the resident Irishman.”

“You—!” Seamus splutters, face burning red. Dean, for his part, has developed a serious interest in the stones below their feet. Once Seamus finishes his impersonation of a fish, he huffs and declares, “We were _not_ fooling around together last night in the corridors, so I don’t know what you think you saw, Harry.”

“I never said you were fooling around _together_ ,” Harry points out, eyebrow arched.

“You were certainly bloody implying it!” Seamus exclaims. “Don’t act like that proves anything.” He swallows. “And anyways, we weren’t fooling around at all. At least, I wasn’t. I can’t speak for Dean.”

“I wasn’t,” Dean mutters, the tips of his ears red as he shuffles his feet.

“Right,” Harry says slowly, nodding. “Seamus, next time you wanna’ claim you weren’t fooling around last night, maybe do a better job of concealing the hickey on your neck.”

Seamus’s eyes widen as his hand flies up to the muted red mark on the left side of his neck. “I, uh—I—” He looks to Dean for an excuse, but Dean only shrugs his shoulders in a clueless manner, eyes as wide as Seamus’s. “I burned myself! Doing a spell!”

“And you just happened to burn Dean, too?” Harry asks disbelievingly. “On his neck?”

“We—um—I mean, _I_ —Uh—”

“Seamus,” Dean says softly. Seamus whips his head to Dean, eyebrows raised as if pleading for help. “Let’s just tell him.”

Seamus’s eyes grow even wider, and his mouth gapes as if about to start shouting. But then, his shoulders drop, and his mouth shuts, and his eyes soften, and he nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, all the fight gone out of him. “Yeah, okay.”

“Tell me what?” Harry asks expectantly, and his friends turn back to him.

Seamus looks at Dean one more time, and Dean nods. Seamus takes a deep breath before saying, “We were fooling around in the corridors last night.”

“Yeah, I figured that much out on my own.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Then what are you asking us, Harry?” Dean inquires gently.

“I’m—I’m _asking_ —” Harry’s flabbergasted at the question; isn’t it _obvious_ what he’s asking? Then again, he supposes that he has a _lot_ to ask, so it’s a fair question. “I’m asking what the hell this is! Are—Was that a one-time thing? Or…has it happened more than once? Is it just fooling around, or…is it more?”

Seamus’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, Harry, don’t be shy; no need to mince words like that.”

“Hey.” Dean places a hand on Seamus’s arm, and Seamus immediately backs off. Harry’s pretty sure that simple gesture’s answered all those questions in one fell swoop, but he’d like to hear the truth from their mouths even so. Dean faces Harry again. “It’s happened more than once. It’s a…pretty regular thing. And, um…well, as for…whether it’s just fooling around or…more…Well…”

He looks over at Seamus, who grins back. Still smiling at Dean, he completes the thought with, “We’re sort of in love.”

And—all right, Harry sort of does a double-take at _that_. It’s not like he was expecting a friends-with-benefits arrangement, per se, but… _love?_ It just seems a bit… _extreme._ Love’s just always been such a big concept to Harry; his mother used it in her dying moments to protect him, he didn’t receive any after that until he became friends with Ron, he’s never felt it on any sort of romantic level. The thought that these two are capable of being so casual about it is… _weird_ , to him. Honestly, Harry’s a little jealous.

But happy for them, of course! _Wildly_ happy for them. God knows they could all use a bit of joy right now, and Harry can’t think of two people more deserving of that joy. And Dean and Seamus make sense together; really, now that he thinks about it, Harry can’t fathom why it took them this long.

Ah, wait. Yes, that was his next question.

“So, um…are you guys…” Fuck, if only there was a way of asking this _without_ sounding like an absolute prick. “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he requests, and Dean and Seamus nod, throwing each other perplexed glances. “Just…are you…gay? As in…only into guys? Dean, what about—Ginny?”

Seamus snorts a little, then quickly covers his mouth as he turns around, shoulders shaking. Dean just smiles kindly, shaking his head at his boyfriend. “To answer the first question, yes. As for the second…” He grins crookedly. “Well, mate, I think you’d know better than I would.”

“You know what I mean.” Harry sighs. “Did you ever— _actually like_ her?”

Dean’s lips press into a thin line and go on a slant as he shakes his head lightly. “No.” He then rushes to add, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ginny’s great! She’s a _great_ girl; you’re really lucky, man. But…I never liked her…like that. I tried, but—I just couldn’t.”

“So you were using her?”

“Not deliberately,” Dean says lamely.

“But still.”

“I guess you could see it like that,” Dean says reasonably, holding Seamus back. “But—really, I was just—trying to work it out. So…I tried it with her. And, for the record, I never cheated on her.”

Harry nods, believing his friend. Hell, Dean has way more experience in this area than Harry ever will; who is Harry to judge? Dean didn’t do anything dishonorable. He’s a good guy, and a good mate, who just had to work something out.

“Yeah, all right,” he says. “That’s fair.”

“Are we dismissed?” Seamus asks, clearly only half-joking.

“One more thing,” Harry says. “When were you two planning on telling the rest of us?”

“Oh, well—it’s just—It’s so new,” Dean explains. “We wanted to give ourselves a chance to figure out what it was before letting the whole school catch wind of it.”

“You seem to have worked out what it is by now.”

“Well, where’s the fun in letting everyone in on it right away?” Seamus grins, that trademark twinkle in his eye. Then, he actually looks serious for once. “We just…wanted it to be just ours for a bit, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Harry nods. “But—when _are_ you gonna’ tell everyone?”

“We don’t know yet,” Dean rushes to answer. “But we’d really appreciate it if you kept this just between the three of us for now.”

Harry can’t say, “No” to the pleading look on their faces, so he sighs and acquiesces, “All right.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Seamus says with a relieved grin. “’Knew we could count on you!”

“But I’m _not_ covering for you two!” Harry clarifies. “If you’re about to get caught, you’re on your own.”

“That’s totally fair,” Dean agrees, nodding. “Thank you for this, really.”

“Yeah, okay.” Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“So, um…is this all settled, then?” Dean checks. “Can we all go back to breakfast?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Harry answers. “Let’s go.”

“Seriously, mate,” Dean says, patting Harry on the shoulder as they all walk back to the Great Hall. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, you’re top-rate, Harry,” Seamus insists.

“It’s nothing.” Harry blushes a little, uncomfortable with how much praise he’s receiving for…just not being an asshole, really. It makes him consider just how scared Dean and Seamus must be of getting caught. “Don’t worry about it, guys.”

As they sit down in a row, Harry notices the smile Dean and Seamus share, and smiles to himself. He really is happy for his friends. As he’s putting a sausage link on his plate, Ron and Hermione sit down across from the three of them.

“Good morning,” Ron mutters, taking a piece of toast for himself.

“’Morning!” Dean and Seamus say in a grinning chorus.

“Christ!” Ron covers his ears and leans back a bit. “What’s got you two so gung-ho?”

“Nothing, Ron,” Seamus replies easily. “’Just happy to be alive.”

“Right.” Ron rolls his eyes. “Well, just—be happy quieter.”

“Sure thing, Ron,” Dean agrees. He shares a look with Harry, who merely sips his pumpkin juice, maintaining an oblivious façade.

***

Hermione knows about Dean and Seamus, of course. She’s known for quite a while now. At first, she wasn’t sure, but the more she saw, the more it was confirmed in her mind. The little touches, the secret glances, the giggly whispers. All the things, Hermione is sure, no one is meant to see.

Thus, she is unsurprised when Dean plops down into the armchair next to her in the common room one night, looking apprehensive about something. “Hi, Hermione.”

“Hello, Dean.” Hermione looks up from her Charms essay to give the boy a small smile in greeting.

“Whatcha’ workin’ on?”               

“Charms.”

“Is it hard?”

“Not really,” she says on a sigh. “But it is tedious.”

“Right, yeah.” Dean nods, looking around the room. He rubs his hands together, and Hermione thinks she has a pretty good idea of what’s coming. Her suspicions are confirmed when Dean leans forward in his seat and asks confidentially, “Say, Hermione—can I ask you something that can’t get out? I mean, like—In order to ask you, I’d have to tell you something, and you’d have to promise not to tell it to anyone.”

“Of course, Dean,” Hermione says sincerely. Setting aside her quill and parchment, she, too, leans forward while crossing her legs. “You’re my friend, Dean. I swear, I won’t tell a soul. Don’t you know that you can trust me?”

“Yes,” Dean says quickly and firmly. “I was—just checking. ‘Cause…this is important.”

“I completely understand,” Hermione declares. “I’m all ears.”

“Great.” Dean nods, visibly swallowing. “Um—it’s about…Seamus. _Me_ and Seamus.”

“What _about_ you and Seamus?”

“Well, we’re—we’re—” Dean looks over his shoulder and all around the room. He drops his voice down to its softest, lowest tone as he leans further forward and admits, “We’re…dating. Don’t scream!”

But Hermione doesn’t scream; in fact, she gives no sign of surprise. She merely smiles, deciding against playing dumb, and confesses, “I know.”

Dean blinks. “You—you _know_?”

“Yes, I know,”” she says, nodding kindly. “I’ve known for a while.”

“But—how?”

“I figured it out on my own.”

“But—we— _how?”_ Dean is so flabbergasted, it’s frankly adorable.

“The way you two are with each other, the little smiles and laughs, the intimate touches.” Hermione shrugs. “Honestly, you two aren’t very subtle about it.”

“Oh,” Dean says blankly. “I—Wow, um. All right, then. You know. And—you’re cool with it?”

“Of course I am!’ Hermione exclaims, slightly hurt by the insinuation that she wouldn’t be. “You’re two of my dearest friends, and you’re happy, and that makes _me_ happy. It also helps that I’ve been pulling for the two of you to get together since fourth year.”

Dean huffs out a laugh at that. “Really? You knew back then?”

“Duh.” Hermione rolls her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t know you were totally gay back then, but I figured it out when you were dating Ginny.”

Dean’s head snaps up at that, and he looks like he’s got bug-eyes. “You—you— _how?!”_

“Well, Ginny told me that there just wasn’t any _heat_ behind it when you two snogged. And that _you_ never initiated it; _she_ was the one always starting things, and you just went along with them,” Hermione explains exasperatedly. “And then, I noticed that you never really showed interest in any girls, and I caught you looking a few guys up and down, and—Well it just sort of all—fell into place.”

“Did—did you tell Ginny?”

“Oh, _God_ , no!” Hermione exclaims in horror at the idea. “I would never break my friend’s heart like that. I mean, I didn’t like seeing her be deceived, mind you, but I decided that it would be easiest on everyone to just let things run their course. And it worked out. Not to mention, you’re my friend, too, and I didn’t want to out you without permission.”

“Thank you,” Dean says, really meaning it. “Oh, and—while we’re on the subject, you cannot tell Ron about this.”

“I wasn’t going to. But why Ron specifically?”

“You know why.”

“Oh, I think you give him too little credit.”

“I think you give him too much!”

“Dean, Ron Weasley is many things, but a homophobe is not one of them!”

“I’m not talking about that!” Dean declares. “I’m talking about _Ginny_.”

“Oh,” Hermione says, realization dawning on her. “Hm, yes, now I see what you mean. But you are going to have to tell him eventually.”

“I will, I will,” Dean assures her. “I’m just—waiting for the right time.”

“All right,” Hermione says dubiously. “But don’t wait too long; you don’t want him finding out by walking in on you guys!” She laughs a bit, in spite of the serious matter.

Dean chuckles a bit himself, agreeing, “True; that’s not the most desirable method.”

“Indeed,” Hermione says, voice still somewhat laced with laughter. Then, because she’s entitled to having a bit of fun with this, she asks, “Now, just what took you two so long?”

“Oh, coming from you?”

“Hush!” Hermione scolds, mostly pretending to be outraged and laughing in spite of _herself_. Dean laughs heartily, falling back in his seat, eyes twinkling. Hermione lets out a little “ _humph_ ” even though a smile is still tugging at her lips.

“Hey, you’re the one who made a joke out of my love affairs first,” Dean points out.

“Dean, you’re a gay man who dated a girl while pining after your best friend this year. You don’t need anyone to make a joke out of your love life; you do fine in that department on your own.”

It’s a little tasteless, and can be seen as offensive, but Dean apparently realizes that Hermione means it entirely in jest, for he roars in laughter. Hermione joins him, enjoying the happy feeling filling her up. Strange—She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to sit with a friend and talk about joyful things and enjoy each other’s company, rather than be constantly seeking some dark truth or plotting some way to save the world.

“So, what do you need to ask me?” she asks once they’ve both settled down a bit.

“Well, um—On Saturday, we’ll have been dating for two months,” Dean begins.

“Oh, that’s so exciting!” Hermione cuts in. “Congrats!”

“Thanks.” Dean smiles bashfully, the tips of his ears turning red as he looks at the ground. “And, I, um—I want to—do something special for it.”

“My God, Dean Thomas.” Hermione shakes her head in awe. “I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“Oh, I’m only doing it to get laid.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a look that said she knew better, though. Leaning forward, she asked, “Now, what did you have in mind?”

***

“I don’t give a damn what they say,” Neville huffs as he and Ron enter Gryffindor common room. “It’s fucking freezing out there; gloves are a _necessity._ ”

“And what was Hermione even talking about with the fire thing?” Ron adds. “Like we’re gonna’ carry around a jar of fire with us all through Hogsmeade.”

Neville scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I really don’t get your taste, mate.” He and Ron start making their way up the stairs.

“Hey, shut up.” Ron shoves at his friend, despite the grin playing on his lips. It was strange, though, the way Hermione specifically seemed so intent on keeping him and Neville in Hogsmeade; the two of them had had to sneak away when Hermione was in the bathroom.

Ron’s about to push the door open to the dorms, but Neville places his hand on his arm, holding him back.

“Wait,” Neville whispers.

“Why?” Ron hisses back.

“ _Listen_.”

And when Ron _does_ listen, he hears a voice on the other side of the door— _Seamus’s_ voice. He looks curiously at Neville, who shrugs in a clueless manner. Ron inches forward, and Neville mimics the motion, both of them pressing their ears up against the door.

Seamus is speaking in a low voice, so they can’t make out much, just words like, “amazing” and “beautiful” and “idiot,” each spoken with affection, warmth, and admiration. Breathless, as if Seamus can’t believe he’s with whoever he’s with. But _then_ , Seamus practically _shouts_ , “Oh, _God_ , I love you!”

And that’s when Ron feels his eyes bulge out of his head, because Seamus _loves_ this girl? It was bad enough that he brought a girl back to the dorm without telling any of the rest of them, staying back with Dean and “studying” but to love her and not tell any of them? That’s just too fucked up for Ron to tolerate.

He turns the doorknob, despite Neville reaching for and trying to stay his hand and protesting, “Wait! They might be—”

Too late.

Ron’s already opened the door, and now, he and Neville are greeted with the sight of a table laid with two plates and glasses, as well as chicken and plum pudding. That’s not all, though; they also get a full view of Dean’s bare bum, his trousers around his ankles and Seamus wrapped around his front and up against a wall. Dean is looking over his shoulder, turning redder and redder with each passing second, and Seamus is staring at them with wide eyes.

Ron steps out with Neville and pulls the door firmly shut.

There are a few moments of silence before they can hear scrambling coming from the other side of the door, but Ron is so shaken that he barely registers it. Neville is clearly just as shocked as he is, judging by the way he’s shaking his head with his mouth hanging open. Ron, for his part, just stands there, hands on his hips, and waits.

Neville mutters, “Well, I was right.”

“Right about what?” Ron snaps.

“They _were_ shagging.”

“Shut up, Neville.”

Finally, the door opens, and Dean and Seamus appear, both quite red and, thankfully, fully clothed.

For a moment, they all just stand there, looking at each other and trying desperately to look anywhere else. Finally, Neville suggests, “Maybe we should, um…go down to the common room.”

“Yeah,” Dean says thickly. His eyes dart to Ron, then back to the floor. “Good idea.”

They all trudge down the stairs, single file, watching the steps as they walk. Once they reach the common room, no one sits down; they all just crowd in the general area around the fireplace.

There’s a long stretch of silence during which no one apparently has any idea what to say. Ron decides to break it with, “Well, I, for one, am scarred for life.”

“Hey, you’re the ones who came back to the room,” Seamus points out. “We thought you’d be gone all day.”

“We came back for our gloves; it was ruddy cold and we forgot them.”

“And whose fault was that?”

“Well—we—Hey, you two were shagging in the dorm without telling anyone; don’t try to turn this around on us!”

Seamus sighs. “Fair point.”

There’s another long stretch of silence before Neville says, “So, that’s what studying looks like?”

“Well, if you want to have fun with it,” Seamus says in a clear attempt to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.

“How long has this been going on?” Ron inquires. “I mean, this was clearly a planned thing for the two of you,” he continues, referencing the apparent meal set up. “So…how long? And what is it?”

Dean sighs, plopping into an armchair. “Today is the official marker of two months of us dating.”

“Dating,” Ron repeats. “You guys are dating.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to tell any of us?”

“Well—no.”

“Why not? Aren’t we friends?”

“We just,” Seamus intercedes, “didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until we were sure of what it was.”

“It’s been two _bloody_ months, Seamus!” Ron hurls at his friend. “I’m pretty sure you know by now!”

“Well, we sort of…wanted it to just be ours for a bit,” Dean elaborates. “Not have it be front page news with everyone asking and being annoying about it.”

“A bit?” Ron latches onto the phrase. “Is two months not enough of a bit?”

“Ron—”

“Neville, you go ahead back to Hogsmeade,” Ron says, not looking away from Dean. “I’d like a moment alone with Dean.”

Neville nods. “Yeah, all right.” Before he leaves, though, he walks past Ron to Dean and Seamus. He shakes both their hands, murmuring, “Congrats, guys.” Dean and Seamus smile gratefully at him; he then winds his way around all the chairs and tables and vanishes through the portrait hole.

There’s a beat of silence, and Ron raises his eyebrows at Seamus. Seamus looks at Dean, who nods; only then does Seamus take his cue to leave and ascends the dormitory stairs.

Dean looks up at Ron, who glares back. Dean swallows, and slowly exhales. “Ron, I wanted to tell you, I _did_ —”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because—I was afraid of—how you’d react.”

“How did you think I’d react?”

“Like—this.”

“I—I’m only—It’s not like I’m—!” Ron breaks off and takes a deep breath. He tries again, calmer this time. “I don’t care that you’re into guys. That’s not a problem or anything. I’m only thinking about—Are you gay?”

“Um—yeah,” Dean confesses. “Yeah, I am.”

“What about Ginny?”

“Ron,—”

“Did you like her or not?”

“Of course I like Ginny!” Dean defends himself. “She’s wonderful!”

“No, I mean, did you _like_ her?” Ron clarifies. “Don’t play dumb.”

Dean sighs. “Ron, I—”

“It’s a yes-or-no question, Dean.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“So you lied to her?”

“Ron, just let me explain—”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” Ron cut him off. “You took advantage of my poor, innocent, vulnerable little sister, and thought you could get away with it.”

“She’s not so innocent, vulnerable, or little anymore, Ron, and I did _not_ take advantage of her,” Dean asserts, standing up and pointing a finger. He then looks down, shyly running a hand through his hair. “We never—did that. I’m not sure I could have, frankly.”

“Not like that!” Ron exclaims, shuddering at the mere _thought_. “I _mean_ you let her get into a relationship with you without telling her what she was getting into. You took advantage of her not knowing this rather crucial thing about you in terms of attraction.”

“You’re right,” Dean concedes. “I did. And I feel terrible about it. But for God’s sake, Ron, look at it from my side! ‘Hi, I’m gay,’ isn’t exactly the best pick-up line to use on a bird!”

“You should have stayed away from her!”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Dean admits. “But I was confused, and scared, and I didn’t want to deal with the truth. And Ginny offered me a chance to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there. And I figured if any girl could ‘fix’ me, it’d be her.”

“My, what a high compliment.” Ron rolls his eyes.

“Ron, I’m sorry,” Dean says firmly. “I am. But I can’t go back in time and change it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” Ron asks, shaking his head as he traces his finger along the mantel of the fireplace.

“I wanted to, but—I was waiting for the right time, and it just…never came.”

“You might have told me earlier and spared us all _that_ little incident.”

“Okay, I had no way of knowing that would happen.”

“Yeah, but it still did!”

Dean sighs. “Mate, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. If there’s any way I can make it up to you—”

“Apologize to Ginny,” Ron orders. “That’d it make it up to the both of us.”

“Um, there may be a _slight_ problem with that—”

“What?” Ron asks through gritted teeth. “What is the slight problem with that, Dean?”

“The whole…matter of privacy,” Dean answers, meandering over to the mantel himself. “You know, not wanting to tell people.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want from me then, Dean,” Ron spits. “You asked what you could do, I told you, and now you’re telling me you can’t do it. That puts us in a rotten place.”

“How about,” Dean proposes, “when she finds out—because we _will_ tell people eventually—I apologize to her then. Would that work?”

Ron considers the offer and his friend, looking him up and down, and sighs. If Dean wasn’t such a good guy, it would be a lot easier to hate him.

“Fine,” he relents. “I suppose that would work.”

“Good.” Dean gives a small smile. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s a beat before Dean says, “I really do mean it, Ron. I didn’t want to hurt her. I never would want to hurt her. It was just—a lot to handle.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron says fairly. “I just—She’s my sister, you know?”

“I get it,” Dean says. “And…thanks.”

“For what?”

“For still being my mate.”

“Ah, Dean,” Ron says, pulling Dean into a hug. “I’ll always be your mate.”

***

Ginny’s not an idiot.

She knows when something’s going on that she’s not being told about. She knows when she’s being lied to. She knows when she’s not being told the whole truth.

Hermione’s a dreadful liar, and Ginny knows all her tells. Thus, she knows that Hermione’s not being totally honest with her.

So, one night, she suggests that the two of them have a “girls’ night.” Sleepovers can be weird at Hogwarts, but the way most people do it is by occupying the common room. Hermione happily agrees, and doesn’t protest that night when Ginny reveals the firewhisky she brought.

Look, Ginny’s not _proud_ of doing this, but enough firewhisky is as good at Veritaserum on Hermione, and Ginny doesn’t like not knowing things. Even more so, she hates when her _friends_ keep things from her.

Thankfully, it’s been three years since that first incident, and Hermione doesn’t seem to have any memory of it. She’s not all suspicious of Ginny’s motivations as Ginny pours her glass after glass.

Finally, when her friend’s cheeks are sufficiently rosy, and her eyes look hazy and glazed over, Ginny says, casually, “Hey, Hermione, can I ask you something?”

“O’ _course_ ,” Hermione drawls, patting Ginny’s cheek a few times with her right hand. “You’re one o’ my _best_ friends, Ginny; you can ask me _anything_.”

Ginny smiles at her inebriated friend; Hermione always gets affectionate when she gets drunk, and it’s pretty adorable. But Ginny has a mission here; she needs to focus. “You wouldn’t ever _keep_ something from me _deliberately_ , would you?”

Hermione’s eyes had been closed, a dreamy smile on her face, but now, one eye peers open and she purses her lips. Looking at Ginny sideways, she says, “No…”

“Good.” Ginny smiles kindly, picking up the bottle and pouring them each another glass. “Just checking.”

“Mm,” Hermione hums, grabbing at her glass. Ginny leans forward, picks up the goblet, and places it in Hermione’s outstretched hand. Hermione smiles in gratitude, downing her drink in one. She grimaces as it shoots down her throat, then takes on a pensive look. Her mouth slants to the side, and she adds to her previous thought, “I mean—I’d only keep something from you if I thought it was going to _hurt_ you, you know? I don’ wanna’ hurt you, Ginny.”

“But, Hermione,” Ginny counters, “don’t you realize that you not telling me _is_ hurting me?”

Hermione pouts. “How?”

“Because you’re saying you don’t _trust_ me,” Ginny says emphatically.

“But I just don’ wanna’ hurt you!” Hermione protests. “ _That’s_ why!”

“Well, I consider you a good friend, Hermione,” Ginny states squarely. “And you consider me one, right?”

“One o’ what?”

“A good friend.”

“’Course.”

“Good friends help each other, Hermione,” Ginny explains. “ _And_ they trust each other. So, since _we’re_ good friends, you should tell me, then help me to not be hurt. Make sense?”

And thank _God_ Hermione is drunk, because it would have taken all of thirty seconds for a sober Hermione to see all the holes in _that_ logic. But, drunk Hermione is totally on-board, saying, “Yeah…that makes sense.”

“So,” Ginny says resolutely, shifting in her seat so that she’s cross-legged. “What do you have to tell me?”

Hermione looks away and informs her, voice small, that, “Dean and Seamus are dating. They’re both gay.”

It’s a punch to the gut, but less so than one might think.

Firstly, it’s not like Ginny hasn’t moved on, too; she’s wildly happy with Harry, happier than she and Dean ever were together.

Secondly, her and Dean’s relationship had never been the stuff of legends; they were always bound to break up, and neither of them had any obligations to each other anymore.

Thirdly, Dean being gay makes sense. It’s not like she _knew_ while they were dating, but looking back on it, it all just sort of slides into place; why Dean never kissed her with any real passion, why Ginny had to initiate every touch, why Dean always seemed more interested in looking down the table at Seamus instead of talking to Ginny.

Maybe she should have seen it, really.

But can you blame her for thinking her boyfriend would like her? She’s fine with Dean dating Seamus, really, but she feels _used_. And if there’s one thing in life Ginny has had more than enough of, it’s being used. So, yeah, that part hurts. _Really_ hurts. Ginny had been under no illusions about her relationship with Dean being magnificent, but the fact that it was _nothing_ , that the whole time, Dean felt _nothing_ —

Ginny turns away from her friend, feeling tears prick her eyes. “Oh,” she says thickly, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I see. Well—cool!”

“Ginny,” Hermione says earnestly, and Ginny can already hear the apology forming in her friend’s mouth.

“No, it’s fine!” Ginny rushes to cut Hermione off before she can start. “Really. Um—I’m gonna’ get some sleep now, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione says, sounding almost as hurt and confused as Ginny feels. Ginny stretches out on the couch, her back to Hermione and the fireplace, her eyes shut tight.

“Ginny?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

Ginny blinks _hard_ , making the fucking tears stay _in_ her eyes. “It’s okay,” she declares sincerely. “I’ll be fine.” She thinks of Harry, and knows it’s true.

***

Dean loves dating Seamus, almost as much as he loves Seamus himself.

Before, all Dean could do was watch Seamus from afar; try to count the freckles on his face, laugh at his jokes quietly, fantasize in the dark of night.

Now, Dean can count _all_ of Seamus’s freckles. He can throws his head back and out-right _guffaw_ at Seamus’s one-liners. He can play out every fantasy he’s ever had. He can spoil Seamus, buy him expensive gifts and watch him blush. He can kiss every inch of Seamus’s skin. He can whisper, “I love you,” in Seamus’s ear, watching him turn red, as they walk with their hands brushing in the corridors—for only them to know.

So, yeah, Dean really can’t remember a single time in his life when he was happier than this.

He’s just reflecting on all this one morning while eating breakfast with his friends, Seamus by his side. Their knees are touching, and Dean can feel the electricity in their quiet gesture that says, “I’m here.”

All their friends are preoccupied, munching on breakfast and chatting. Dean allows himself to savor this rare moment of peace these days, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He listens to the sounds of his friends laughing and being happy, and feels warm inside.

“Hello, Dean.” Dean’s eyes fly open, and he is confronted with the sight of Luna Lovegood standing in the space between Ron and Hermione, who are seated across from Dean and Seamus. “Hi, Seamus.”

“Hi, Luna,” Dean greets, wondering what this could possibly be about. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” Luna explains, as if it’s obvious.

“On what?” Seamus asks cautiously, looking at Dean in apparent confusion.

“On two months, of course,” Luna answers. “Saturday marked it, right?”

Seamus chokes on his pumpkin juice, as does Ron. Dean and Hermione, respectively, pat them on the back, and the choking subsides.

Ron looks up at Luna first, sputtering, “You—you _know?_ ”

“ _You_ know?” Hermione exclaims.

“ _She_ knows?” Seamus shouts at Dean.

“Yes, she knows,” Dean sighs.

“Since when?” Harry inquires.

“Hang on, you too?” Ginny asks.

“ _You_ know?” Dean’s eyes widen in horror.

“Yes, Dean,” Ginny says calmly. “I know. And I’m okay with it. We’re obviously much happier now than we ever were or could have been with each other.” Harry wraps an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder and kisses the top of her head.

“Thank you.” Dean smiles gratefully at her. “And…for the record, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ginny replies easily.

Dean looks at Ron for approval, who sighs and rolls his eyes, which Dean takes to mean that everything is okay. He leans over and lays a smacking kiss on Seamus’s cheek. Seamus pretends to be disgusted, pushing him away and wiping off his cheek. But Dean sees his ears turn red. Dean smiles, turning back to all their friends.

“But,” Seamus says suddenly, “Luna, how do _you_ know?”

“Neville told me.”

Neville, who had been hiding his face in his hands during the duration of this discussion, looks up upon feeling everyone’s eyes on him. Feebly, he says, “I’m sorry—but it just slipped out! I told her not to tell anyone what she knew. Apparently,” he continues, turning to look at Luna pointedly, “she didn’t realize that included you two.”

“Well, you didn’t _specify_ that, Neville,” Luna declares lightly. “And I figured that Dean and Seamus would already _know_ about their own relationship.”

Neville sighs. “You do have me there.”

“Neville, mate, it’s fine.” Seamus grins. “After what we put you and Ron through, I think we can forgive any indiscretions on your parts.”

“So,” Dean declares, “you all know, then.”

There’s a general consensus, murmuring around the circle of variations of, “Yeah.”

“Cool.” Dean nods. “It’s all out in the open, then, I guess.”

“So, just, uh,” Seamus cuts in, “don’t come a’knocking if you happen to see a sock on the door!”

“Really,” Ron says emphatically, holding a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples. “Don’t. Spare yourselves.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Weasley.” Seamus rolls his eyes. “God knows that’s the only action _you’ve_ seen in months.”

“Sod off!” Ron orders, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. Everyone else has erupted into laughter, and Ron has to hide his grin behind his goblet.

Dean smiles, looking at Seamus, who smiles steadily back. They intertwine their fingers under the table, and the conversation turns toward who supposedly called it first, and Seamus rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, and they are happy.

***

Later, in the common room, Seamus is lying on his back on his bed, looking up at the top of his four-poster. Dean is folding and putting some clothes away into his drawers.

“It’s no longer our little secret,” Seamus points out, if a little regretfully.

Dean smiles to himself and huffs out a small laugh. “No,” he agrees, turning to face his boyfriend. “It’s not. Do you wish it still was?”

“I don’t know,” Seamus admits. “I’ll need more time to see how it feels, before I deliver a verdict.”

“How much more time?” Dean asks, a smile playing on his lips.

“Mm, dunno’,” Seamus answers, getting up on his knees and creeping on them over to Dean. Dean stands at the foot of the bed, and Seamus wraps his arms around Dean’s neck. “’Might be a week. Or a month. Maybe a year or two. Or the rest of our lives. Depends, really.”

“On what?”

“How well you snog me in public, now that you can.”

Dean grins, leaning down at joining their lips together. The kiss is soft, slow, and sweet. Seamus relaxes, sighing into it. Dean moves his lips gently against Seamus’s lips, adding just a hint of tongue before pulling away and murmuring, lips still on Seamus’s, “Maybe like that?”

“Mm,” Seamus hums. “Yes, I think that’ll do.”

Dean smiles at him, stepping over the edge of the bed and straddling Seamus. He starts snogging Seamus once more, and Seamus’s hands come up under his arms to grasp at his shoulders and back. Dean is deepening the kiss and starting to undo the buttons of Seamus’s shirt.

Suddenly, though, Seamus pulls away, saying, “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean instantly pulls back, worried that he’s crossed a line and that Seamus isn’t in the mood.

“How did Hermione know?”

“Oh.” Dean’s ears go red. “Um—Well, I uh—might have asked her for a bit of advice.”

“On what?”

“What to do for you for our two-month…anniversary…thing. By the way, why is it called that? It’s not actually an anniversary; it’s just a marker for how long we’ve been together, really, and—”

He’s cut off by Seamus pressing his lips to Dean’s own. Dean makes a sound of surprise into Seamus’s mouth, because, um, _wow_. He and Seamus have had passionate kisses before, sure, but _this_ —this is…really, something else entirely. This is pure _fire_ , with a layer of something sweet beneath—A promise.

“’Can’t believe you did that for me,” Seamus murmurs against Dean’s lips. Because Seamus knows; he clearly understands what a big deal it was to Dean to keep this relationship under-wraps, and to tell someone himself, even if it was Hermione, someone they both trust—it’s still a big deal.

“Well, of course I did,” Dean says as if it’s nothing. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Seamus says back, shaking his head slightly in awe. He kisses Dean softly, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean kisses back, going back to unbuttoning Seamus’s shirt, deeply breathing in the smell of his boyfriend.

He pushes the shirt off Seamus’s shoulders and brushes his fingers lightly over Seamus’s nipples. Seamus whines into the kiss, arching upwards towards Dean. Dean smirks against Seamus’s lips, setting to work on his trousers. Going public with this, he thinks, really won’t be so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> And, that's all! Thank you so much for reading; please leave a comment! Thanks! <3


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